


Clear Smoke and Dry Tears

by averynicecake



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Admiration, Angst, Angst and Feels, Crushes, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, I hate writing in present tense but if I didn't it wouldn't work so ehh, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Keith is like 17 and a half, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Nightmares, Pining Keith (Voltron), Present Tense, Reminiscing, SHEITH - Freeform, Sad Keith (Voltron), Sad Shiro (Voltron), Shiro is 19, god knows why I'm doing this, honestly i didnt notice that until about 2 months after posting this, if it offends then lemme know and I'll change it to neutral, it's time for me to Hurt Your Feelings (tm), literally it's midnight and I wanted to write some angst come at me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 14:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averynicecake/pseuds/averynicecake
Summary: Shiro looks at him with apologetic eyes, and lets out a long, deep breath. “Look, whether we like it or not, there's going to come a time when I'm not around any more. I don't know if it will be in one year, or ten, or a hundred, but the likelihood is it'll be sooner rather than later.”Keith doesn't know how to deal with the feelings he harbours for Shiro alone, but he knows if he says anything he'll curse himself.Shiro doesn't know what the future holds, but he knows there's no room for love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my first attempts at angst and my first ever Sheith fic, so I hope it's good!

Admittedly, Keith's never been one for feelings of any kind – be it the rivalry Lance seemed to display toward him in the past, or the parental concern Hunk harbours toward their entire team. He knows he has them, and he notices for sure when they crop up in his mind, but they just aren't something he focuses on, consciously or otherwise. Actions speak louder than words, that's his philosophy, and it's one that's proven true more times than false. Besides, few things feel better than the swell of victory in his chest, and the rush of adrenaline it brings. When he trusts his instincts and his team, Keith feels as if he could conquer an entire galaxy. He wouldn't, though; it's stressful enough keeping a team together, let alone enforcing laws hundreds of planets. He'd much rather stick to taming his lion.

But that's beside the point he's trying to concentrate on, and while it is less painful to take a seat on his train of thought and let it lead him on a journey through well-loved and familiar stations, he knows that avoiding this particular stop will eventually throw a spanner in the works. Keith isn't used to feeling things so strongly, even with affairs as near his heart as it was. Trying to decipher it would be like attempting to hack a code that changed every time you tried to crack it. It's better to forget everything you think you know and start from the base facts. Tiresome, frustrating, and the only way to figure it all out.

The first memory he has of this sensation is when Shiro lost himself to the ship's corruption and sent Sendak into open space. Absolute fear had engulfed the man, stiff and unstable, and it terrified the _quiznak_ out of Keith. His body closed itself off from all contact, became incapable of communication and refused to let anything affect its state of being. On the contrary, Shiro's eyes had been saturated with solitude. Shuddering grey spheres in the sweat-slick plane of his face. They yearned for the comfort and relief of another being, calling for the solace of someone he knew. Keith wanted nothing more than to kneel at his side and cradle him, reassure him, let him rest and recover like he needed to. Allura had been too quick on her feet to allow him the privilege, and he'd ended up pining from afar instead. The moment Shiro was out of danger, Keith had made a beeline for him and spent a good hour or so by his side, exchanging no words, just silence, knowing they were safe by one another's side. It was the most serene and intimate experience he'd ever been through.

There are a few fuzzed-out memories after that, mostly just small doses of praise or a quiet moment together that would slowly unravel into a conversation that lasted hours, and Keith feels a pang in his chest for each one, but they aren't what he's looking for. He's trying to remember the time they were thrown through the fraying threads of a wormhole's tapestry. He recalls the weightless sensation he felt when his body passed through, as if all his vital organs were swimming freely about his body and he had no control over where they ventured or what they did. It was like being dragged through the nutritional goop the Alteans fed them. After being tossed into darkness, the light brought with it a fear for Shiro's life, one that deepened when they made contact, and rapidly snowballed as Keith made his way to save him. Once again he feels the bottom fall out of his world when he thinks back and hears Shiro telling him that Keith is next in line to be leader. He is consumed by unease. He clenches his fists as anxiety pounds in his mind.

He thinks about the Trials of Marmora, how he'd been begged to give up the blade and return to the ship, and how that concern had only spurred him on further. Every time he was knocked down, he would picture Shiro standing before him, full of pride and relief, drawing him into his arms and praising his skill. His armour was torn and his breath came in ragged gasps. Nevertheless, he knew he had to finish the trials. The pain he experienced was excruciating, enough to make any other man beg for death. But even in his predicament, when faced with the choice between oblivion and Shiro, he would pick Shiro a million times over. Later on, still weary from the buzz of adrenaline leaving his system, he recalls being told he had Galra blood. The surprise hadn't even touched the layer of protection that Shiro had laid upon his brain the moment they locked eyes after battle, though Keith admits it took a while to sink in.

The final cause is the one that really cements his theory. It isn't often that he makes physical contact with Shiro in front of the rest of the team; typically the only time they're together is when emergency has struck and there is no time for talk, let alone touch. From the moment the words left Coran's mouth, Keith could feel the worry swell in his friend's body. It was a perilous mission and they knew full well they risked coming back injured, or worse. It was painful to watch him stare.

As luck would have it, the entire team recognised their departure as a moment for affection, and while Lance and Pidge were smothering their old friend with wishes of good luck, Keith was able to sneak in a few precious ticks of comfort. “I'm going to be fine,” he whispered with a strained smile, over and over again, not so much as to reassure Shiro as it was to convince him. “I know you'll do great,” the reply had come, in a voice saturated with restrained tears, “but no matter how much you impress me, I'll never stop worrying.” Shiro had left his arms with a crooked grin, equal parts hope and stress. Keith had left the ship that morning with a brave face and a heart leaden with remorse.

He wonders about whether this is worth addressing. Before he knows it, they'll all be heading into Zarkon's realm, and there will be no time for romantic matters – and he's almost certain this falls under that umbrella. Maybe it's just a passing phase, and once the battles are over he'll be feeling just as plain and bitter as usual. He has an inkling he's wrong about that, but supposes only time can tell. On the other hand, the risks and hazards the upcoming showdown poses are immense, and he can't be certain that, by the time it's over, either he or Shiro will exist any longer. Feelings are impulsive, and maybe it's a good idea to treat them as such. Maybe.

It's a pity nobody on the ship is wise enough to help him – excluding Shiro himself, who is clearly not someone he can ask. Allura seems like she'd give sound advice if she had access to it, but having been asleep for ten thousand years makes it seem like she's no more knowledgeable than he. Pidge is a gold-mine of information, if you want to know how to hack someone's computer or code a software that lets you spy on someone, but there's nothing in her head about falling in love. Coran is middle-aged and blunt. He's most experienced out of them all, but something tells Keith there would be too much winking and Altean slang, and not enough guidance. Hunk is sweet and sensitive, so there's a good chance he'd know something about having a crush, or at the very least being crushed on. He's a safe bet for sure, but also quite a plain one. Lance, of course, is a blundering moron. He's never made any object of his affection so much as stutter under his sultry gaze. He might have a few ugly pick-up lines, but Keith isn't one for comedy and he'd quite like to keep his tongue speaking chastely. Something draws him to ask, if he's honest, an inexplicable mix between curiosity and masochism. He decides he'd like to keep his and Shiro's friendship intact at the very least, and opts to call upon Hunk.

He rolls lazily across his bed and reaches for the small telecommunication device Pidge built – she gave one to each of them, declaring that they were 'nothing fancy, but would transmit messages in a flash'. He clicks through the settings with a series of whirs and beeps, and eventually comes across Hunk's contact information. He forwards a call, and hears a distant ringing.

“Hm? Keith, is that you?” comes the groggy reply, and he feels a twinge of guilt, realising it's probably far later than he thought.

“Did I wake you up?” He asks softly. Hunk hums affirmative. “Sorry. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until morning? I'm exhausted from the mission, and I'd be surprised if you weren't too.”

“Not really.”

“Well, can you ask someone else? Someone more awake?” His friend yawns on the other end of the line, and he hears fabric rubbing against skin, forcing eyes into action.

Keith grunts. “I could, but I think you'd be the best man for the job. The job being talking to me, that is. I mean-” He blows his hair out of his face with a sigh. “I'm sorry. I'll let you go back to sleep.”

“Wait,” Hunk says, “I'll help you. Whatever this is, it sounds like it's eating you up from the inside, and as much as I value my sleep, I value your wellbeing more.”

His shoulders slump in relief. “Are you sure?”

“I'm sure. Meet me in the mess hall, okay?” A crumple of static bursts through, and the line cuts out. Keith stands on unsteady legs and paces out the door, trying to be as quiet as he possibly can through the corridors to the dining table. He wraps his arms around himself to form a barrier against the cold; the ship only air conditions when Allura has it running, and the weather in space isn't all it's cracked up to be. Far-off footsteps start to clang closer as he moves, and soon enough he's rendezvoused with Hunk.

“Not a nice time to be out and about.” The bigger man shivers, clearly just as touched by the cold as Keith is. “You look rough. Are you sure you should be up?”

He nods solemnly. “I need to ask you something. Something personal.”

“Go for it,” Hunk approves, sinking into a dining chair. Keith follows suit.

“Have you ever loved someone?”

He blinks deeply, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. His brow furrows, then relaxes as his face softens into a smile. “This is about Shiro, isn't it?” He says tenderly, and it's more of a statement than a question.

Keith ignores it. “How does it feel?” he asks, “what do you do?”

“Well, usually you feel a lot more tense around someone, like there's something pulling at your chest. And your arms and legs start feeling white-hot whenever they pay attention to you. Personally, I stutter a lot, but some people get loud and start showing off, like Lance. Other people might get a lot more quiet, feel a bit sensitive. I think it depends on how well you know the person you like.” He drums his nails on the table. “As for what to do... I don't think I'm the best person to ask about that – I mean, look at what happened with Shay!” Hurt is present in his movements, and he lets out a sigh. “I don't know. I'd ask Lance, but I'm assuming you can't stomach that.”

“I'd rather not have my head filled with tacky one-liners, no. “ He smirks a little, but it drops quickly; the pit of his stomach feels like it's curdling, and this chat has proven of little use. “Thanks for humouring me,” he says, trying not to sound too desolate.

“It's no problem. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help.” Hunk stands and makes for the corridor. He turns on his heel while he's still in earshot. “Keith.”

“Hm?”

“For what it's worth, I don't think this is going to be a problem. Shiro's a sensible guy. If he doesn't feel the same way, I doubt he'll just stop wanting to be your friend; you're a good man and a valuable part of this team. It'd be a mistake to ignore that on personal grounds.” He ducks his head and offers a gentle grin. “Goodnight, Keith.”

“Goodnight,” he replies to the fading echo of footsteps.

His arms fly up to his chest and he crosses them against the table, letting his head fall against them as he wallows in his thoughts. Hunk's right, probably. If he was to tell Shiro, he wasn't likely to lose anything other than dignity. It would bring him closure, at least, let him get some sleep for once and know he didn't have to worry about anything.

He doesn't want to put that kind of pressure on Shiro, though. As much as he tries to hide it, his anxiety dominates his life, and a confession of love weighing on his mind surely isn't going to improve that. No matter how badly he wants his affection, his wellbeing comes first. After all, you can't love someone very easily if there's nothing left of them to love. It's selfish to believe his feelings should play any part in Shiro's life when he already balances so many other factors without complaint. It's stupid. He feels stupid. He _is_ stupid, because the belief you _belong_ in someone's heart would only enter the thoughts of a moron.

“Which one of you is out of your quarters at this time of night?” The black paladin's voice bounces off the metal walls in a sudden and eerie way that surrounds Keith's head with noise. “Whoever's there, I suggest you go back to sleep.”

Keith lifts his head reluctantly and spins his chair to face him. Shiro's hair is mussed from lying in bed, and he's dressed in nightclothes, but the bags under his eyes tell tales of the nightmares that keep him awake.

His tired scowl softens considerably upon recognising the man before him. “Oh, it's you. What are you doing out here?”

“Thinking,” he replies, tone clipped and curt.

Shiro ambles closer, taking a seat in the chair Hunk was in a few minutes ago. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He rests his head on his arms again. “Yeah. Just not with you.”

The taller man appears taken aback, and blinks a few times. “Oh. Well, if it's something I've done, I'd like to-”

“No!” Keith insists, a little louder than intended. He repeats, quieter, “no. It isn't you, it's me. I've done something stupid.”

He relaxes markably. “We all do stupid things, Keith. You do know you can trust me, right?”

His head bobs in response. “I know. But on this occasion, I think it's best if I don't say anything to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Keith snaps, “Because it involves you, okay?”

“All the more reason to tell me,” Shiro says softly, and Keith tilts his head. “I know myself better than anyone else does. If it's about me, and it's bothering you, maybe I can shine some light on the matter.”

He thinks for a moment, weighing out the pros and cons, before Shiro's inquisitive smile catches his eye and he has to say something before this feeling swallows him whole.

“Do you promise that you won't think less of me?”

“I can't promise anything,” he points out, “but it's unlikely that I'll change my opinion of you that fast.” It both comforts and hurts Keith to realise that. He has no control over what Shiro's reaction is, negative or positive. It hadn't even entered his mind. His confession is prompted with a quick “well?” from opposite him. It's now or never, he supposes.

“I've got feelings for you,” Keith confides reluctantly, refusing to meet the other man's gaze, “romantic feelings. I know I shouldn't, and _quiznak,_ am I sorry. This probably isn't what you were expecting me to say.”

There's several ticks of silence, and Keith's stomach starts to cramp with worry until he feels a hand touch down on his shoulder.

“You should never be ashamed of your feelings, Keith.”

He sits upright and shrugs Shiro away, rubbing the empty space on his shoulder as if he were brushing dirt away. “That's not to say you should be proud of them either.” Hunching his back, he rubs deep at his eyes and groans. “God. Sorry. I should go to bed.”

There's a sharp intake of breath. “Do you recall this morning, when I told you I'll always worry about you, regardless of how incredible you become?” Keith shrugs as if he hasn't spent every moment since then repeating those exact words in his head. “Well, I meant it - you're a fantastic warrior, and you're devastatingly smart when you put your mind to it. But you know, you're kind, too. You've been bearing my burdens as though they're yours for a long time, and without any complaints. Whenever any of us need you, you're there without fail. When I first met you, I thought you were just another cold-hearted airhead who was in it for himself. I was so incredibly wrong. You're selfless, and caring, and sensible. You're a part of this team.” He glances at his prosthetic. “You're a part of me, whether you like it or not.”

“You're straying further from whatever point you started with by the second,” Keith declares, clasping and unclasping his hands.

“No, I'm getting closer to it.” He looks up at Shiro as he says this. The taller man sighs, but without exasperation. “If you haven't felt that, up until now, you could tell me about your feelings, then you're worried about it, which would be fine if we weren't so close. The way you're stressing yourself out over this, I get the impression you don't believe you're good enough to want me.”

The paladin noticeably recoils, shrinking away from his friend's eyes. “What's the problem with that?” He coolly responds, but any genuine concern has vanished from his voice.

“The problem is that it's a ridiculous notion. You've put me on a pedestal I don't deserve to be on in order to get rid of something that is completely natural. I'm not a hero, nor a god. You don't have to look up to me. I'd rather you looked at me as a companion instead of an authority, because that's all I am. I'm an equal, and I'm your equal.”

“You aren't _my_ anything,” he grunts bitterly.

“Maybe not. But I'd be honoured if I was.”

“What do you mean?” Keith asks, the starlight suddenly becoming too bright for him to sit still. He fidgets in his seat, head growing hot.

Shiro looks at him with apologetic eyes, and lets out a long, deep breath. “Look, whether we like it or not, there's going to come a time when I'm not around any more. I don't know if it will be in one year, or ten, or a hundred, but the likelihood is it'll be sooner rather than later.”

“Don't say that,” he barks desperately, “you don't know that.”

Shiro shows no reaction to his plea, and blinks pensively at the galaxy surrounding them. “We're about to dive into the biggest fight we've ever been in. There's no chance we're going to make it out unscathed, and as the oldest-”

“By a year and a half!”

“As the oldest,” he repeats firmly, “it's my duty to put myself in the line of fire if it's the only way to protect you.” His eyes slowly jump from star to star until they settle back on Keith's unwavering, despondent gaze. “I'm not going to deny that I like you as more than a comrade or a friend. But I can't possibly make a commitment to you when all that will happen is heartbreak.”

The words in Keith's throat fall back down in a garbled mess, leaving behind pained whimpers like a dog in its last moments. His nails dig into the skin of his shivering arms, and he lowers his head so far down he feels as if he's already grieving. “Shiro, please. Don't say that.”

“I'm sorry. I really am.”

“No!” He slams his fist against the table and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes growing misted with tears. “Shiro, please, I can't lose you. Please. I love you.”

Shiro leans forward and takes him into his arms with a shaken sweeping movement. He grips the smaller man tight against his chest, so close that his pounding heartbeat reverberates through him. He winds his real fingers through the long tufts of hair that flow from the back of Keith's head, his prosthetic slowly rubbing the sobs from his body in circles round his back. Shiro's not entirely made of steel, of course, and his breathing runs ragged from the tears catching his throat. He buries his face into thick, dark locks and presses his lips chastely against pale scalp.

“I love you too,” he finally responds, but as soon as the words leave his lips he pulls away and squeezes his eyes closed so he isn't faced with the broken-down image of his best friend.

Keith takes a jagged breath. “If you love me,” he whispers, his voice lost in hysterics, “if you love me, then why..?”

“Because this isn't romance. This is war.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> *sad violin air horn music* rest in pizza Keef and Shinebro
> 
> Your comments and kudos truly make my day, so if you liked this please take a moment to tell me (if you can)!


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